


Interview With a Douchebag

by Secretlyademigodinthetardis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sex, Cas is a reporter, Dean being a douchebag, Dean is a singer, Gay Sex, M/M, Rock Star AU, They argue, They end up with a kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:08:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1407688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secretlyademigodinthetardis/pseuds/Secretlyademigodinthetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel really, really regrets taking the job at Novak - now he has to work for his brother, and his first job? Interviewing notoriously douchey rock star, Dean Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interview With a Douchebag

**Author's Note:**

> This was written at 4am at a friends place, and I'm posting it here after it being on ffn.net for ages. So yeah.

Castiel stared at Michael.

"You cannot be serious. You cannot be seriously asking me to do this."

Michael sighed, and rested his head in his hands briefly before looking back up at his younger brother.

"Castiel, I took a chance hiring you here. As my brother, you can either be a liability or an asset to me. I have no one else I can ask to do this, and I am counting on you as my brother to perform this task well. Please, it's one evening."

"But I can't do this! I'm a junior reporter! And this is  _Dean Winchester_  we're talking about! You know, world famous rock star? About to go solo because he can't even get along with his own brother? The man who – supposedly – has a  _small army_  of groupies that he takes on tour, and has orgies with? And you want me to interview him?!"

"Yes"

"Jesus, Michael," Castiel groaned, slumping down into the leather armchair that sat across from Michael's desk, "when did this become my life?"

"When you dropped out of college and realised that working in a coffee shop was a job barely fit for an undergraduate, let alone a 22 year old man!" Michael snapped, standing up. "Castiel, if you do this I'll give you a month of paid leave. Just go, interview the guy, and leave. That is all I'm asking."

"Fine. But if it's shitty, it's because I have no fucking clue what I'm meant to be doing."

Castiel stormed out of the office, slamming the door for good measure.

* * *

On the elevator ride down, Castiel finally relaxed, letting himself lean against the cold steel wall.

Seriously, why was this happening to him? All he'd wanted when he asked for Michael's help was a quiet desk job, and now he had to go and interview the most conceited, arrogant man in existence (according to E!), who apparently had ruined his own live shows due to being so drunk he couldn't walk, let alone sing. And on top of that, the internet was swarming with rumours of how he had gotten into the music business – his girlfriend, Lisa Something, had given birth to another man's child, causing a heartbroken Dean to write several stories about love and the joys of being young and free – as well as the numerous women he slept with while on tour.

_This should be easy as pie._

Just before Castiel had a full blown panic attack in the elevator, the doors dinged open, revealing a short, smug-looking man sucking a lollipop.

"Cassie! Heard about the job! My baby bro all grown up!" he beamed, stepping into the elevator and pressing the 'G' button.

As if Castiel's day could get any worse.

"Gabriel"

"No, seriously! And you know, being single and all…he might just decide to bone you!"

"Gabriel! Just because I happen to be gay and single it does not mean that a womanising conceited assbutt like Dean Winchester would ever,  _ever_  want to have sex with me. Especially when you consider the rumours of his…..activities offstage. Please, for the love of God, stop trying to get me laid!"

Gabriel snorted.

"Cassie, I will never stop trying to get you laid. After that douchebag Balthazar completely tap 'n' gapped you, it is my JOB to get someone at least halfway attractive for you to sleep with to get rid of that shit. Oh, here we are. Good luck with the interview!"

And with that, Castiel's other older brother was gone. Castiel stared blankly before pulling himself together and leaving the building.

* * *

_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_

Castiel entered The Roadhouse apprehensively, his blue eyes darting around. A bar, brightly lit, lined one wall, while the majority of the high vaulted interior was taken up by a giant moshpit, overlooked by a second floor balcony. The entire room was aimed towards, and dominated by, a wooden stage that heavy curtains were currently draped across. A few people, all in black shirts that had 'The Roadhouse' stamped across the front, scurried about, sweeping and being busy in general. Castiel stood just inside the heavy wooden door, feeling slightly lost.

"You! Hey, you the reporter guy?" He turned. A middle aged woman stood behind the bar, brown hair tucked into her ponytail. She was flanked by a blonde girl and a guy with a mullet. Castiel made his way over.

"Ms Harvelle, I presume?"

The woman laughed. "You can call me Ellen. I take it you're Mr Novak?"

"Yes. Call me Castiel. Michael sent me here to interview Dean Winchester?"

"Yeah, you're a bit early sweetheart. He hasn't even arrived yet."

"Oh, my mistake. I shall return later."

Castiel turned to leave, but the blonde girl spoke up.

"No, why don't you just stay here and hang out until he gets here? I mean, what else are you gonna do anyway?"

"Joanna Beth Harvelle!" Ellen scolded.

"Mom!"

"Sorry, dude, my girlfriend has no filter," the guy with the mullet grinned at him. "I'm Ash, by the way"

"Hello, Ash. Thank you, Joanna, I shall accept your offer. You are right, I don't have anything else to do," Castiel looked down at his polished brown shoes as the trio looked at him with sudden sympathy.

"Have a drink, son," Ellen said as she poured him a double shot of whiskey. Castiel took a seat at the bar and smiled at her gratefully before thanking her.

"Hey, you'll need it to put up with Dean. That boy's got one hell of a mouth on him"

"What do you mean?" Castiel was suddenly ten times more terrified than he had been before.

"Oh, the kid grew up round here. First gig was at my old bar and everything. I helped raise that boy, and I'm just warning you to not put up with his bullshit. If he gives you any trouble, just give me a yell. Jo here can sort him out." Jo smirked.

"Oh god. My job is riding on this. Why am I here?! I have no idea what I'm doing!" Castiel cried out, downing the whiskey in one go. He slammed the glass down.

"I'll need more."

Over the course of the next hour, Castiel steadily drank. He told Ellen all about his job, why he was working for 'the family business' – Novak Magazine, which was run by Michael after their father ran away for unknown reasons. Michael was CEO, with Gabriel, Raphael, Luke, and their cousin Zachariah on the board. He told her about how their overly religious parents had named them all after angels, before their mother had died of cancer when Castiel was aged 10, leaving their father a complete wreck. The magazine had become a failure, only being restored to its former glory when Michael took charge. Castiel had refused at first to join the company, taking off for a college on the other side of the country. However, Accounting had turned out to be the exact opposite of what Castiel wanted in life, and he had dropped out. After being a barrista for six months, his pay wasn't quite enough to cover rent, and the only option he'd had left was a job at Novak.

Which led him to his current predicament.

For her part, Ellen listened to him, occasionally yelling out directions at her workers. Ash and Jo took off to cover the backstage preparations, and Castiel drank.

And drank.

And drank.

As he downed his tenth whiskey, he looked at Ellen.

"I think I'm starting to feel something"

"No shit, son, that's your tenth! It's water for you from here on out: can't have a drunk interviewing a drunk!"

Like that was going to make Castiel feel any better.

* * *

It was time. A girl ran in, shrieking.

"HE'S HERE! HE….DEAN….I…."

She fainted.

Castiel stared at her blankly. Ellen hurried out from behind the bar.

"Ash! Jo! Take Anna here and get her conscious! I'm gonna go see Dean in his room! Angelboy, you're with me!" Ellen had started calling Castiel 'Angelboy' after learning the origin of his name. "On the double!"

Everyone leapt into action, Castiel dragging his feet as he followed Ellen. They made their way across the stage, through several doors and down a long hallway before getting to one that had a large star on it. Ellen rapped on the wooden door firmly.

"Ellen? That you?" A groggy, husky voice called from within. Ellen opened the door. There, sprawled on the couch in the empty room, was a leather clad backside. Castiel gaped. The – extremely well-toned – backside moved, and a bare back was revealed, along with dirty blonde hair that covered the back of a head, stopping just above where a leather cord was draped around the neck. Castiel gulped as the muscles rippled, the body turned over on the couch, and the front of the man was revealed.

And Castiel was lost.

Green. That was all that registered at first. A deep, clear green, flecked with gold, was framed by long eyelashes. A pouty mouth, with soft lips, was next. Then – and Castiel barely let himself look – further down, a weird amulet hung from the leather cord, resting against bare torso.

_My god._

The guy was fucking  _built._

Fucking abs. Fucking pecs. Fucking whatever-arm-muscles were called. He had them  _all._  And only the faintest hint of puppy fat on his stomach, which ended in a V towards the low waist of his leather pants. Which only made him even more attractive.

_FUCK._

Castiel bit his lip, and as he averted his gaze, he realised the man was staring at him, a small smile playing around the edges of his mouth –  _that mouth will kill me._  He flushed crimson, but met the green stare with his own steely blue resolve.

After a few seconds of silent staring, Ellen shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat. The man jumped guiltily and looked at her.

"Dean! This is Castiel Novak. He's going to be interviewing you before you perform, play nice. This one is actually decent."

Castiel stared at her in horror.

_This is Dean?! I have to interview this…this GOD?! This guy who's…..a fucking dick._

Dean smiled at him, an actual proper smile, through his groggy haze – which was presumably something to do with the half empty whiskey bottle he had clutched in one hand. He noticed Castiel look at it, lip curling, and to Castiel's everlasting surprise, his ears went red and he put the bottle down.

"So, Castle? Mind if I call you Cas?"

Any good feelings Castiel had towards Dean Winchester flew right out the window.

"It's Castiel. And yes, I do mind,"

Dean's ears went red, and Castiel's heart melted. Not that he would show it.

"Oh, I'm sorry, man. Long road trip and all, plus….you know, booze. Kinda makes me a bit hazy with people," he scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.

_I am so fucked._

* * *

"So, Cas-tee-el," Dean shifted so he was upright, facing Castiel across the low coffee table that separated the two couches. Ellen had left, whispering to Castiel to remember her warning before clapping him on the shoulder and pulling Dean into a hug. "That's like, an angel name, right?"

Castiel stared at him.

"Yes, yes it is, how did you…?"

"My brother's a huge nerd. Before we started the band, he was gonna study Biblical Philosophy. Probably will anyway, considering the guy's refusing to work with me anymore." Dean's eyes were downcast, but he quickly looked up at Castiel. "That better be off the record, by the way."

"Of course! The only stuff I'm gonna use is what you say in response to my questions"

Dean smiled. "Great. So, uhh, should we start?"

Castiel fumbled, dropping his pen and almost losing grip on the voice recorder. "Shit, yes, sorry for swearing, uum…I'll just set up the…uhh…"

Dean laughed. "Don't sweat it man. Just when you're ready"

_How the fuck am I supposed to hate him NOW?_

"Okay, Dean Winchester, about to perform your final show with your band Team Free Will before your solo career. What's prompted the change?" Castiel, satisfied with his delivery, sat back, awaiting Dean's response patiently.

"Well…what with the shift in the music industry towards a more singular focal point….the disturbances in the force….and the, you know, blah blah blah, blah blah blah, I feel like it's time for me to do my own thing, strike out on my own."

Castiel scowled.  _That's how I'm supposed to hate him._

"I would really like to finish this interview today if at all possible, Mr Winchester-"

"Call me Dean"

"-So if you wouldn't mind paying me some respect as a man simply trying to keep his job and not end up homeless, we can all go home happy"

The smile slid off Dean's face.

"Fine," he snapped. "I want to go solo because of musical differences. I feel like I should be doing my own thing, and the time to do it is now. Happy?"

"Oh, perfectly, Mr Winchester. These 'musical differences', they wouldn't have anything to do with the rumours that you and your younger brother are constantly arguing?"

Dean's jaw tightened. "No"

"Alrighty. No outside influences? No future 'Mrs Winchester' on the horizon?"

Dean let out a snort of laughter.

"Can't exactly get married when it isn't legal, now can I?"

Castiel was shocked into silence. Dean smirked, some of his arrogance restored.

"Come on, next question"

"Wait…" Castiel stuttered. "You're…are you….wait, what?"

"Off the record?"

"Ungh"

"Yeah. I'm gay. But please, don't publish that. Can't ruin my reputation, can we?" The rock star winked.

"Of. Of course not. I. Um. Where's the bathroom?" Castiel dropped his notes and darted in the direction that Dean gestured in. He slammed the door and leaned against it, panting heavily.

_So the orgies are a lie at least. He's gay._

_He's GAY_

_HE'S GAY._

Castiel managed it to the sink and splashed cold water onto his face.

_Calm down, do the fucking interview, and leave. You can do this._

He left the bathroom. Dean was where he had left him on the couch, looking slightly nervous.

"You okay there, dude?"

Castiel smiled tightly.

"I'm fine. I apologise, this is my first interview, and I just…I'm fine."

"Wait, your first interview was  _me?!_  Holy Hell, dude, and you're actually still in one piece?"

"I assure you, I am fine. Let's resume the interview, shall we?" Castiel sat down on the couch and picked up his notes.

"So, your original success was due to a break up?"

"…..yeah. My ex, she had another guy's kid and I only found out he wasn't mine after he was a year old."

"I see. I'm sorry that this had to happen to you."

"Don't sweat it, it was a few years ago"

"Alright. And that's it? No hidden tragedy? No sob stories to share with your adoring fans? I know Ellen knows you rather well. What's the story there?"

"That's none of your fucking business!" Dean's tone turned sharp, and all smiles had disappeared, giving way to a harsh expression.

"These are the questions I was told to ask!"

"Well ask different ones, 'cause there's no way in Hell I'm answering that pile of crap!"

Both men were standing now, glaring at one another. Dean reached down, and without taking his eyes off Castiel, picked up the voice recorder and spoke into it.

"Whoever the fuck asked this newbie reporter to come in, fuck you. Yeah, I'm talking to you,  _Michael Novak._  Quit running your daddy's company into the ground, and send a fucking reporter who knows how to do his damn job, because I am not talking to your golden assed, living-off-my-parents-money, baby brother"

Castiel couldn't speak. He launched himself across the coffee table, and ripped the recorder out of Dean's hand before punching the shocked star squarely in the jaw.

" _Don't. Say. Shit. About. My. Fucking. Life. You goddamn asshole"_ he hissed between his teeth. "You know fuck all about me, you drunken, idiotic, piece of shit. All I wanted was a decent interview so I could get a month off working a shitty job that only just covers my rent. And I got YOU. You can't even sit through a fucking interview, let alone be in a band that revolves around someone as well as you!"

Dean snarled, and suddenly he was the one throwing the punches.

"You fucking dare say that shit to my face?!" He yelled. "I worked hard my entire fucking life to get here, and you sit there in your fancy ass clothes, getting off on telling me how much of an alcoholic I am?! Well fuck you, you fucking prick! I worked my ass off my entire life for Sammy, I raised him after Mom died and Dad went crazy, and the one good thing in my life fucked me over and had a kid with another guy. Publish that in your stupid fucking magazine, you goddamn asshole!"

They stared at one another, faces bruised and bloody, panting heavily. A tear leaked from the corner of Dean's eye, and that was it.

Before he knew what he was doing, before he could scream at himself just how stupid it was, Castiel shoved forward, and slammed his mouth into Dean's.

There was a moment where Dean was in too much shock to do anything, and then he was kissing Castiel back, and falling backwards on to the couch with Castiel on top of him. Their hands were everywhere, clutching at hair, shoulders, torso, shirt, pants, and their breath was hot and heavy in the other's mouth, tongues massaging one another. Dean groaned, and it sent a shudder of pure want through Castiel as he ground against him.

Dean's hands went to his face and held him tenderly as the singer pulled back and looked into his eyes.

"Wanted you the moment I saw you," he panted hoarsely. "Then you turned out to be a dick, and I just…wanted you  _more._  Those eyes…that voice,  _shit!_ " He broke off with a cry as Castiel's mouth latched onto his neck, licking and sucking and nibbling until a dark bruise began to form.

"If this is going to be it, you're going to remember me, Dean Winchester," Castiel breathed against his mouth, voice coming out even rougher and more gravelly than it was normally. Dean's breath hitched.

"Dammit, Cas," the nickname slipped out. "Not just a one off…..haven't been with anyone in so…so long. Waiting for the right person, you know?"

At this, Castiel stopped short and sat up. Dean raised himself onto his elbows.

"What?"

"I shouldn't have… _shit._  I am so sorry! I'll stop now oh my god," Castiel began gabbling, starting to move off Dean, but Dean quickly had his hands on the smaller man's hips and held him in place.

"You feel that, Cas?" he bucked his hips up slightly, and Castiel let out a small whimper, biting his lip as he felt Dean's erection through the leather and denim. "That's from  _you._  Been hard since you walked in. Not had that in a while, believe me. Now get back down here so I can make love to you so well that you feel it for the rest of your life."

Castiel let out a low keen as he brought his mouth back down to Dean's.

Dean barely made it to the stage on time that night.

* * *

_Five years later_

Team Free Will was intact. Dean had made peace with his brother, and they'd continued the tour with Castiel tagging along. The interview – a very, very highly edited version of it – made its way into the magazine, and Castiel quit his job the day after his paid leave finished.

May as well get paid for doing nothing, right?

Well, nothing apart from having mind-blowing sex, that is.

Tonight was the final night. The final show of the final tour that Team Free Will would ever do. Only this time, it was simply because Sam wanted to go back to college, and Dean…well, Dean had more important things to focus on now he was sober.

The black wedding band around his finger glinted in the stage lights as he sang to the crowd in The Roadhouse, belting out a heartfelt rock ballad. They'd gotten married as soon as it was legal in Kansas. Something caught the corner of his eye, and he turned to see Castiel standing offstage, waving a piece of paper and mouthing frantically through the beam that wouldn't leave his face.

Dean stopped singing and ran offstage, dragging Castiel back out with him in front of the confused fans.

"Ladies and gentlemen, as you know this is my last ever show. However, I haven't been entirely honest with you as to why this is my last show. As you know, this is my husband, Castiel Winchester. And you see that paper in his hand? That's the document that says we've just adopted a little girl."

At this, the crowd went absolutely insane. Sam rose from his seat behind the drums, coming to hug the two men who were both trying to hide their tears of joy. As the three embraced, Dean whispered fiercely in Castiel's ear, "I love you. So fucking much."

Castiel let out a small sob.

"I love you too"

They'd forgotten the microphone in Dean's hand, however, and the screams from the crowd were even louder. Ellen, standing with Jo and Ash behind the bar, smiled.

"Well, I guess we found the one guy who wouldn't take his bullshit"

* * *

_Epilogue_

It was 3am, and Castiel woke to the sound of crying on the baby monitor. He sleepily stumbled into Samantha's room.

"Come here, let's go downstairs so we don't wake up Daddy"

Once downstairs, Castiel began to rock her, softly singing.

"Believe it or not, I'm walking on air

I never thought I could feel so free

Flying away on a wing and prayer

Who could it be?

Believe it or not, it's just me"

By the end of this, Castiel was sat in the wicker armchair, Samantha fast asleep in his arms.

Meanwhile upstairs, Dean woke to an empty bed.

"Cas?"

He blearily made his way downstairs, and stopped short in the doorway to the living room. Castiel was sat in their armchair, still singing to their daughter quietly and not noticing Dean's presence. Dean waited until Castiel had fallen asleep too (which didn't take long at all), before carefully removing Samantha from his arms and taking her back to bed. He then tip toed back to where Castiel was sleeping, and hefted him into his arms. Dean carried Castiel upstairs, and tenderly lay him down in their bed before climbing in next to him, falling asleep with his arms wrapped around his husband and a smile on his face.

FIN


End file.
